Asher spotted a familiar face coming his way as he moved somewhat haltingly towards the bright festive glow of the Warlord's tent, intercepting the Aaenshi.

[i][color=707070]"Shenzi. I would have expected you to be at the Healer's tent,"[/color][/i] the Swordmaster remarked, fighting the sharp pain in his side that kept him from taking a full breath.

The jackal-like muzzle looked up at him with a grin, the experienced Healer letting her yellow eyes flick over the tall man, picking out his hurts, the slash at the crook of his neck the most serious. Brushlike tail wagging slowly behind her slender, slightly crooked legs, she gave a nod.[i] [color=bc8dbf]"I was heading back there just now, as a matter of fact, when Izzy told me you needed someone to come patch you up."[/color][/i]

Asher scowled irritably, opening his mouth to protest, but Shenzi shushed him with a wave of her paw. [i][color=bc8dbf]"Actually, I heard her tell some of the boys that you had a slave who needed watching while you went to see Ozlo, but that you looked like your head was cut partly off."[/color][/i] The canine woman lifted a paw-like hand to tilt Asher's face away from the wound, tut-tutting him as she did so. [color=a187be][i]"I can see she wasn't far wrong. You need stitching, my boy."[/i][/color]

The Swordmaster shrugged her off, frowning stubbornly.[i][color=707070] "Paws off, Shenzi. I wont take long and then you can slather me up with whatever foul-smelling goo you like. I just want someone to get my new...girl...set up in my tent. It's good you decided to come. She says she's a Healer herself but there's cuts on her back she won't be able to reach herself."[/color][/i]

Shenzi nodded thoughtfully, her expression flashing with keen interest at the mention of Verissa's supposed skill. Healers were always of high value anywhere they went and a Kvaren tribe was no exception. The grey-muzzled old Healer was also quite interested in the fact that Asher had, finally, brought himself home a woman. 

[color=a187be][i]"Got a little rough with her, did you?" [/i][/color]

Asher's eyes blazed at the implication, a flush of anger and...something else...rising in his sickly pale face. [i][color=707070]"I wouldn't..."[/color][/i] It was only because he respected the sharp-tongued Aaenshi that he didn't draw his sword. Once again, the Healer lifted her paws to ward off the surly man's ire. 

[i][color=a187be]"Don't look at me like that, Ash, I think better of you than that."[/color][/i] But it was clear she was very interested in his reaction.

Asher slung Verissa's bag off his shoulder and handed it sourly to the Aaenshi. Chuckling with some private humour, the short canid moved towards the shape of Asher's tent.

--

The woman who arrived to take Asher's place uttered a curt [i][b]"Come on, girl,"[/b][/i] and gestured her into the Swordmaster's tent at the end of a short spear. The space inside was dark, quiet, and cool, smelling of animal hides, smoke, and sawdust. Until the spiky-haired human started a fire in a small iron potbelly stove the only source of light was the flicker of an open candle on the other side of a linen partition. As the light blossomed, smoke escaping up a pipe and through a flap in the roof, Verissa would be able to see the spartan abode of her captor/rescuer. Every single item was stoutly made but plain, and constructed in a way that would make it reasonably portable for when the Tribe moved again. An empty wooden armour stand stood in one corner next to a trunk, and on the other side a folding table rested next to some other boxes and crates that held things like food and cooking implements. A chipped but serviceable mirror hung loosely against the soft side of the tent. The only item present that seemed to hint at any sort of personality in the man who had claimed her was a large orange and black pelt spread out on one wall. Thick ox-hide mats on the ground separated her from the dirt and grass of the prairie as the business-like woman reached for her chained wrists, securing her to the thick post in the middle of the tent. It was sunk deep into the earth below.

Unable to speak Common, the woman moved back outside and stood guard at the tent flap. It was only about five minutes later that someone else approached and there was a brief conversation outside. The big woman departed and the tent flap opened, admitting the thin, rangy frame of the Aaenshi, who wagged her tail as she took in the new slave.

[color=a187be]"Tut tut, well don't you look mess. Been a rough evening for you I'm sure."[/color] Her narrow muzzle bared a grin as she moved closer, reaching across to un-hitch the human from the post. [color=a187be]"I am called Shenzi. The Swordmaster is under the impression that you are a Healer. Is that true?"[/color] The Aaenshi's eyes were shrewd, watching Verissa's every move with a calculating intelligence. 

The canine woman was dressed in a short-sleeved tunic with a large satchel over her shoulder, as well as Verissa's bag. She had leather breaches protecting her legs, cinched tight with long straps of leather. A curious set of sandal-like shoes protected her paws. She carried no obvious weapon.